AT
by Marco A. Salazar
Summary: Those Who Hunt Elves have undressed someone they shouldn't have. Someone who's protector will not forgive. Who will not forget. And who will make them pay...A Roger HackettTWHE Quickfic.


"A.T."

A Roger Hackett/Those Who Hunt Elves Crackfic.

By: Marco A. Salazar.

(Disclaimer at the bottom of the fic).

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They call it the 'Carl Gustav'. Its specific name is Bofors Carl Gustav 84mm Recoilless Rifle. A tube almost as tall as its current user, with an optical/laser painting device. A swing-out end thru which ammo is loaded and which directs the launch gasses to lessen the recoil. Loaded in it right now is a High-Explosive Anti-Tank round, several pounds of explosive in a shaped charge.

The target is a Type-74 tank. Green, with a 105mm rifled main gun and a .50 Browning machine gun. It's supposed to have run out of ammo and fuel by now, but it hasn't. Its occupants are somewhere deep inside the woods, and the thing is actually MEWING like a cat. People in town said that it was possessed by a cat spirit of some sort.

(Whatever), he thinks.

People in town talked about the 'metal carriage' and 'Those Who Hunt Elves' (they truly said those words with capitals), the menace that was five people ('more like 4 people and a talking panda', they corrected later) who went around stripping elves naked. The reasons varied from story to story, from saving the world to otherworldly invasion to sexual deviancy.

(Whatever), he thinks.

A talking panda with mastery of magic. One girl with advanced weapons and high accuracy. One woman with the gift of gab. One man who is a combat monster with his bare hands. And a tank.

(Whatever), he thinks.

People complained to the constables, who delivered them to the main office. The main office gave diplomatic immunity to Those Who Hunt Elves, for some reason that could only be rumored upon. Maybe they REALLY were saving the world, or maybe this was a conspiracy. Or maybe their Chief Magistrate was a sexual deviant herself.

(Whatever), he thinks.

The world (whether magical, modern or futuristic) never seemed to change. There was always some moron criminal who somehow slipped between society's cracks, and of course they HAPPENED to be the heroes.

(Whatever), he thinks.

But they went and did something stupid, something that he would never forgive them for: they went for someone he protected. Since a Night Elf in a Japanese kimono just HAD to have a spell fragment, didn't she? Some sort of unwritten magical equation, the odder, the most likely?

(Bastards), he thinks.

He found Silkshadow in a dark alley near the hotel, her kimono, a kimono that had been for generations in her family, torn to shreds and she was crying and covering herself, shaking uncontrollably.

(Bastards), he thinks.

He put her in his hotel room and paid extra so the food could be delivered to her. He called Sylia and told her what had happened. And then he called Washu and gave her a pair of requests, the most important of which he now held.

(Bastards), he thinks.

He then spent three days following the thread marks questioning people. He made note to visit said Main Office in the future… most probably with an assault shotgun.

(BASTARDS!!!!), he thinks.

And here he was now, peeking over the top of a small hill into a clearing the tank was parked in. He had no plans to kill Those Who Hunt Elves. He had no plans of approaching them either, lest his rage made him unable to negotiate.

But his vengeance, vengeance in Silk's name, would be swift and final. Their tank was their one true advantage over a land of angry elves. It was their vehicle, their base, their supply storage.

His mission was to make it history.

(**_BASTARDS_**!!!), he thinks, that one word reflecting an amount of rage that just bordered on the inhuman.

Roger set the Carl Gustav on his shoulder and looked thru the optics, setting the infrared laser in the middle of its tracks, between two of the drive wheels. And he fired.

The Anti-Tank rocket flew out with a loud 'WHOOSH!!' and a smoke contrail, streaking towards the tank like a miniature comet. The tank's turret turned towards the rocket, giving a questioning little 'mew?'.

The rocket then hit, spreading hellfire all over the lower side. Both drive wheels and several thread pieces flew off, and the tank screeched in pain. The other thread started to roll, but it just made the tank twist in place.

Roger dropped back behind the hill, opening the launcher and putting a new rocket inside. The tank's gun boomed and dirt showered Roger when the shell hit the hillside.

Twisting and locking the end cap in place, Roger was peppered with dirt again. Type-74 autoloaders weren't supposed to be this fast, so why…?

(It's a MAGIC TANK, remember?), he thinks.

A third explosion and Roger knew he didn't had much time left. Those Who Hunt Elves must have heard the noise by now. And the tank was useless now (they certainly wouldn't be able to repair it with magic and they lacked the parts here). So why didn't he leave?

(Silk got hurt. The scars opened again, and will take forever to heal. So no. It must be DESTROYED!!!), he thinks.

Hackett moved several feet to the right and put the launcher on his shoulder again, waiting for the next explosion.

**BOOM**!!! Black smoke, showering dirt, right where he had been.

He popped over the top of the hill, centered the tank on his crosshairs (no time for a laser lock!), and he fired.

The rocket hit the target's engine, and an extremely loud, final wail came from it. The turret (which had been turning to face him) fired one last time, destroying a pair of trees to his left.

(Final twich? Premature cookoff?), Roger wondered. It had been a 'magic tank', so from his side, there was no clear answer.

With no further fire it seemed to be giving him the finger, and Roger did likewise before turning and running down the hill to his getaway vehicle, a Kawasaki dirt bike.

He had made half a mile when a despairing scream, that of a young woman, reaches his ears:

"MIHKE!!! **MIHKEEEEE**!!!!"

Now knowing his mission was accomplished, an eye for an eye, Roger set course for the hotel.

Punishment was achieved, against Those Who Hunt Elves. But his own was just beginning.

He was the one to ask for the time off, the universe where he would take it. He was the one to ask Silkshadow to some along. He didn't checked (he SHOULD have checked) for threats, no matter how stupid.

And now Silkshadow, who had suffered in silence for years of similar behavior, had been afflicted with it one more time. Those Who Hunt Elves didn't went as far as her former masters, but it was that moment when they tore her clothes off that was similar, and Silkshadow, the fighting Drow girl, was reduced to nothing but a quivering traumatized wreck.

Her face was burned on his mind, filed alongside Brit's, and Roger knew he would have to work for his atonement.

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**DISCLAIMER:** Based on (and freely adapted from) works by Yu Yagami and Metroanime. I alone own Roger Hackett and this interpretation of the author's works.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** And so it ends. I have only seen halfway thru 'Those Who Hunt Elves II' (never seen the firs one), and this fic assumes that series' timeline.

As I said, it's a crackfic. I made this fic in the space of one night with a ton of liberties taken (I don't truly know if it even fits in my own ideas).

I just felt like doing it after watching The Punisher, TWHE and thinking what it would take to send The Punisher (or rather, someone with his mindset) after TWHE.

Silkshadow is a a character of Metroanime that is, essentially, 'Sakura Shinguji-as-a-Drow'. This fic's ideas might not fit Metroanime's own about Silkshadow (although he DID give a Drow character of his, Edema, a bad past).

**FINAL NOTE:** That small battle sequence is a little better if you imagine it in Neo-BSG 'Shaky-Cam' Style and with Bear McCreary's soundtrack ('Helo Chase' fit the most for me).


End file.
